


July 29, 1979

by sanva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babies, Gen, Gen Fic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanva/pseuds/sanva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Dean's six month birthday Azazel stopped in...</p>
            </blockquote>





	July 29, 1979

  


 

It was warm and the window was open. A breeze filtered in through the window. In the center of the small nursery, the smallest bedroom of a two room apartment, two large green eyes stared up at a mobile as it swung slightly.

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and the the stars could clearly be seen from the tall window. The baby let out a light gurgling coo. He wasn't hungry, wasn't wet, and wasn't quite in need of attention from the young couple sleeping in the other room.

A soft rush of air spilled into the room, causing the curtains to rustle back. The baby stared up as a figure appeared, standing just inside his blurry line of sight. Another soft coo, a question. He wasn't afraid, hadn't been afraid of anyone yet.

The figure was a dark blob of a man, a fuzzy outline. The only remarkable thing about him was the bright yellow irises that had no discernable pupil.

Azazel stared down at the baby, a baby that would grow into a man. A hunter.

He reached down, even if he doubted the words of that young man he had to be sure. But he couldn't, couldn't reach inside the crib and grasp that neck—an invisible barrier stopped him.

The crib.

It was old, intricate drawings and designs posing as embellishments—decoration. Protection. Iron hidden inside wood and made into an impenetrable door.

He hissed beneath his breath. There would not be enough time for him to do what he wished. Azazel couldn't break the childs neck and he couldn't turn him either.

A faint noise, feet sliding over carpeting slowly, broke him out of his rage.

By the time Mary Winchester entered the room Azazel was gone.

It would be four years three months and four days before he returned.

By that time Mary had put the cradle inherited from her mother's family in the attic of their new home.


End file.
